


Things that go Bump in Broad Daylight

by SaturdayAddams



Category: Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (TV 2018)
Genre: F/M, It took on a life on its own, Just an obvious ploy to have Zelda and Blackwood caught as many times as possible, Somewhere between crack and trash, sorrynotsorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-12
Updated: 2018-11-12
Packaged: 2019-08-22 19:54:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16604462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaturdayAddams/pseuds/SaturdayAddams
Summary: To be fair, most people knocked before daring to enter his office.





	Things that go Bump in Broad Daylight

Ambrose is the first to know. Well, technically he knew right as it happened, both you and Faustus a bit too preoccupied to pay any mind to the fact that there was another inhabitant at the house with both ears well intact. Perhaps Ambrose even would have let it pass without comment had the two of you not been significantly more...experimental, the second time. No such luck however as you find out one afternoon, when Ambrose stops you as you’re rushing out the door on your way to meet Faustus for another one of your increasingly more frequent Satanic confessions. Clearly you’ve done something right over the years, the boy looking downright terrified while he stutters and looks everywhere but at you.

 

“Look, auntie Zee...you know I want you to be happy right?”

 

“What do you want?” You’ve come to recognize when the boy wants something, and you really don’t have time for all this him hemming and hawing before getting to the point. Faustus doesn’t like to be kept waiting. Although...

 

“Nothing, I swear auntie. It’s just...I love you” You eye him suspiciously, but curiosity gets the better of you, so you let him continue. “And I want you to be happy and have fun...no matter what that entails. Or what you do.” He stares pointedly before adding “or who.”

 

Oh no.

 

“I’m just saying...maybe the next time the High Priest comes over, I don’t need to, you know...hear you worshipping...the Dark Lord. Quite so enthusiastically. Together”

 

No.No.No.No

 

You need a cigarette. Badly. Lighting one up with shaking hands, you take a deep drag and will your body to still. Will yourself to meet his eye, stubbornness and pride victorious as always.

 

“Sounds reasonable” is all you can mutter. The desire to get out before he regains his usual cheek overwhelming. Yet there’s one thing:

 

“Hilda?”

 

“Haven’t said a word” You study him closely. Take a drag of your cigarette and blow the smoke in his face. No. He’s too aware of his opportunity at the Academy to risk it. The promise of both your and Faustus’s wrath should be enough to ensure he keeps his mouth shut. So you simply make a vague threat involving his manhood and a meat grinder should he utter a word to _anyone,_ before you turn to scurry away. Clearly your parting words don’t keep him as fearful as you’d like, as he’s the one who gets the last words as you head out the door:

 

“Be careful auntie Zee! Heard certain kinds of worship can make it pretty hard to sit properly for a few days”

 

And then the bastard winks at you.

 

 

 

The second was Prudence.

To be fair, most people knocked before daring to enter his office. Besides, sitting on the edge of his desk, you’re far too busy admiring the view of the High Priest of the Church of Night himself kneeling in front of you with his head firmly between your thighs to pay any other trivial matters any mind. Having taken a particularly intense flagellation well to his liking, he now seems intent to reward you properly. That’s about the last rational thought that crosses your mind before he really gets to it. Leaning on your elbows, throwing your head back with a sigh, you’re content to just _feel_. Satan knows you have enough to juggle at the Academy and at home, shutting your mind off for these moments is absolutely glorious. At a particularly naughty stroke of his tongue, your eyes snap open and you instantly recognize the figure at the door. Even upside down her features register positively smug. As your eyes meet, you’re briefly tempted to do nothing, force her hand as to whether she really wants to stand there and watch her father eat you out, but in the end, it turns out exhibitionism isn’t really one of your many proclivities.

 

“Faustus, I believe we have a visitor”

 

It’s hard to sound dignified and unbothered in your current state, but you’ll be damned if you’ll let yourself sound anything other than just that in front of either of them. He removes himself from you, and you can’t help an annoyed whimper at the loss of his warm mouth.

 

“Father.” The fact that she manages to sound both amused and smug in this situation is all the proof of paternity that girl should ever need.

 

“What do you want?” If he’s in any way perturbed that his daughter just saw him with his head between a your legs, he only shows his annoyance at getting interrupted.

 

“I needed to discuss a private matter with you”

 

“Now?”

 

The need to cover yourself surpassed by the need to not appear weak. It helps that he’s still on his knees between your legs as he glares behind you, clearly no intention to delay his current activities much longer. You look over your shoulder and bite your lip, her overconfident appearance faltering ever so slightly.

 

“Well I...”

 

“Obviously I’m busy with another private matter. Leave”

 

You can’t help it, reaching out to grab his head and roughly run your fingers through his hair. His next words aimed at her, his attention is all on you.

 

“And next time knock”

 

Adrenaline rushing, you pull him back before she’s even closed the door.

 

 

She’s waiting for you. Not right outside his office, she’s not stupid after all.

 

“How nice of you to comfort my poor father after the recent loss of both Lady Blackwood and child.”

 

You have no idea what game she’s playing, and less inclined to play it, so you once more turn to your trusty cigarette as a distraction as you stare her down and wait for her to continue.

 

“So, I guess he’s good?” If that was an attempt to unnerve you, she has to try harder. “Considering you less than a week ago lied to him about his child dying because you actually thought he’d kill her. Yet here you are. Legs spread.”

 

You take another drag, and before you’ve formulated the perfect answer to make her wish she’d never set foot in her father’s office, she breaks out in laughter “Oh relax, I draw the line at my own father. Just wondering if I got it from him. Always looking for those similarities you know” She winks, and you can’t help but wonder what it is about catching you with Faustus that makes people think that is an acceptable thing to do in your direction.

 

“I’m assuming you didn’t wait for me here simply chat about your fathers...abilities?”

 

“Well, no. It’s about Sabrina, sort of anyway” You raise a single brow at her, knowing exactly where she’s going with this. “You see, I like watching her squirm. And nothing would make that little virgin squirm harder than hearing exactly what her dear aunt Zelda gets up to with the High Priest. However, I feel the two of us have bonded recently, wouldn’t you say? So I’m prepared to offer a little...compromise”

 

“Blackmail. How utterly predictable of you” Smiling your sweetest smile, you make sure your voice betrays just how bored you are of this entire conversation.

 

“It doesn’t matter what we call it does it? It’s just that you seem to have a certain...sway, you might say, over my father. At least in _certain_ situations. I just need you to use that for some very minor favours on my behalf. Whisper some simple suggestions to him, and I’m sure you’ll find that your little niece will remain perfectly ignorant of the fact that her boring, stiff aunt is anything but.”

 

You study her. Weigh the pros and cons. In the end what decides it for you is that she’s acting exactly as you would have, and you can’t help but like her a little bit more for it.

 

“Deal.”

 

 

 

Well. Much good that did.

 

Sabrina. Dear, sweet, innocent Sabrina was the third.

In hindsight, this time you were beyond careless. It’s just that you’d started something you couldn’t finish before class started, and now he had been staring at you all throughout choir practice, his hunger laying thick. Absolute delicious slow torture. You even held them back a few minutes just to rile him up that much more, but in the end you played yourself as well. How you’d swear on Satan himself they usually fell head over feet to rush out of there the second you let them go, but no. Today they were so slow it seemed they were in competition as to who could be the last out of there. Pressing your legs together, trying not to picture every single devious, wicked thing you wanted him to do to you while he stared at you through the throng of students who just would not leave. Last one out you both pounced. No pretence, no sly remarks. You only meant to kiss him there, drag him somewhere else, but he had you backed against the wall before you knew it, and really, how were you to know your niece couldn’t keep track of her things and had to return for her bag? Thank Satan you hadn’t gotten to the part where he properly took you hard against any surface available, but you fail to see her take comfort in the fact that she could have risked seeing much much worse than you stroking the High Priest quite vigorously through his pants, while his hand was so far up your dress you’d have to be Hilda-levels sexually naive to not know exactly where his fingers were.

 

The sight of your niece, frozen in place and mouth agape, not knowing whether or not to take that extra step and pick up her bag, or simply turn and bolt out the door would under any other circumstance be amusing to you. Right now however, you are about as frozen in place as she is. Before you can gather yourself enough to think of anything you could possibly say given the situation, she makes her choice, and she’s out the door so quickly she doesn’t even her you yell her name. A proper aunt would probably run after her, but said aunt would probably also know what to say when she reached her.

 

You don’t see her again that day at the Academy, and your relief is a little too palpable. So you wait and you stall, and you find a dozen little things you simply have to finish before leaving for home. In the end it’s Faustus remarking how “the Dark Lord doesn’t take kindly to cowards” that get you out of the Academy and towards your doom.

 

You move through the house so quiet and quick even your own teenage self would be impressed. Reaching your own door, you’re convinced you’re safe. For now at least. You’re sure to deal with this whole ordeal tomorrow. No such luck however as you open the door, and your heart sinks as you see her sitting on your bed. Hands folded in her lap, she stares at you expectantly.

 

“I brought your bag” you offer meekly.

 

She huffs in that way only a teenager can, and you realize the days where you could tell her to stay out of adult matters and not ask questions are well and truly over. You’re oddly proud, even if you hate it. Conversations about her own life you can handle, barely, if only because it’s your Satan-forsaken duty. But to discuss your own dubious choices, you have absolutely no interest in. Finding no escape, you light up a cigarette and go to sit next to her.

 

“Very well. Let’s talk.”

 

 

“So you two...But….his wife just died.”

 

“Exactly. She’s dead” You take a deep drag of your cigarette. This is her third reiteration of the same topic, and you really, really want to get out of this conversation already.

 

“Was this the first time you two….” Your look of utter disbelief shuts her up effectively. “Of course not” she mutters. “Have you two…. you know?” Yes, you know, but if she’s going to ask obvious questions that are none of her business you’re going to make her actually say it.

 

“Have we what?”

 

“Had...you know…had sex auntie Zee” You roll your eyes, both at her need to whisper the last part, and at her need to ask at all. Sweet merciless half-human, why would she ask what should be as plain as day. Of course, you know what she’s really wondering: ‘for how long?’ ‘how serious?’ ‘are you in love?’ ‘why?’

 

No, you really can’t deal with this conversation right now.

 

“I’d like to think of sex as broader defined than what those pesky human romance novels and teenage boys tell you” You take another drag. “But regardless of definition: Yes”

 

“So you two are...”

 

“Are having sex, and that shouldn’t impact you one bit. Nor should we bother Hilda with this absolutely trivial area of my life that is none of anyone’s business” Signalling the end of the discussion from your end, you extinguish your cigarette on the ashtray next to you. You’d leave, but this is your room after all.

 

If only she’d take your hint.

 

“But why?”

 

Dear Satan will she ever let it go? Sensing her utter confusion, you try to give her somewhat of an answer, or as close to one as you can.

 

“Because I want to. And because it feels really good” There. No lie, and positive message of sex to boot. Not bad considering all you want at this point is to crawl into a hole and stay there.

 

Her brows furrow as she looks at you, Something clearly running through that mind of hers. Rarely a good thing. You can tell she’s on the verge of saying something, curiosity and reluctance warring with neither winning.

 

“Sabrina, I can hear you thinking from here.. Spit it out”

 

“Just...those...nails?” Oh, not quite as naive as you thought after all.

 

“Well...occasionally they can be quite fun.”at her horrified expression you laugh. “But as highest ranking member of this church he knows more than enough magic to make them a non-issue if he pleases”.

 

“I’m _so_ sorry I asked”

 

She does look legitimately sick, but sensing an escape, you’re not done. “I mean, warlocks who know how to be creative with their talents definitely have their benefits, sometimes he even splits his tongue right down the midd…” the door slams behind her before you can even finish the sentence, and instead a deep cackle reverberates from your chest. That should keep her from bringing _that_ incident up ever again.

 

 

 

Oh, but Hilda. You can handle the other two, but for some reason she’s the one you’re absolutely terrified of finding out. Maybe it’s because you’ve killed your sister so many times, you have no tools left in your arsenal to handle her pointing just how fucked up everything about this situation is. Really, by now the most difficult part should by all accounts be keeping the others from making it too obvious. Sabrina refuses to meet your eyes, and Ambrose keeps raising his brows and whistling at you whenever you leave for the Academy. Thankfully Hilda is absolutely clueless about these matters.

 

It really only was a matter of time before even her innocence was absolutely shattered.

 

You were even careful this time. Big empty house. Child with the best nanny a witches blood could buy. Magical creatures came at a steep price, especially if you also needed absolute discretion and no questions asked, but it was worth it. Ambrose and Sabrina were both at the Academy, and Hilda was at that ridiculous job where she spent most of her time lately. Hours and hours of nothing but him and every sinful toy in your arsenal. What could possibly go wrong?

 

You hadn’t anticipated her coming home early for the first time in weeks. You definitely didn’t anticipate her barging through your door with a bang, intent on rescuing you from whatever demon surely was fighting you till the death. Instead she found you naked, tied up to the headboard with the High Priest of the Church of Night deep inside you, cursing at him to let you come right this second.

 

You all freeze in an absolutely agonizing standstill, the only sound the heavy breaths from everyone involved, though for very different reason. After what seems an eternity, Hilda, always the eloquent one, decides to break the ice. To her credit, looking everywhere but at the two of you whilst talking.

 

“Father Blackwood...Your Excellency...um...nice….nice to see you...wasn’t...you know...wasn’t expecting to see you….you know...like this…here today...”

 

“Sister Hilda” Short and formal as he might try, the tremor in his voice still betrays that being inside one Spellman whilst face to face with another is a little too much, even for him.

 

Quiet falls upon you again until you snap.

 

“Hilda, why in Satan’s name are you here?”

 

“I had a fight with...not important, and I came through the door, and, heard noises you know? From upstairs. Thought something was attacking you...obviously I didn’t know you were, you know…..entertaining...”

 

Embarrassment gives way to a different expression on her face, and you don’t need to follow her gaze to know she just noticed the collection of whips and floggers strewn about the room, not to mention a particularly sturdy pair of chains and an extra set of ropes that earlier was put to wickedly good use.

 

“Oh dear Satan…”

 

“For fuck’s sake Hilda, will you get out of my room!”

 

You hear her quick retreat but don’t see it, your eyes closed to shield yourself from the indignity of it all. You’re both quiet, the idea that if you just don’t speak of it, maybe it didn’t happen at all apparently appealing to the both of you. Eventually, he as always, grows tired of not hearing his own voice.

 

“Is there anywhere not overrun with pestering family?” He goes to pull away, but you wrap your legs around him to stop him. Fat chance you’re leaving this room anytime soon, and you’ll be damned if you’ll suffer in here alone.

 

 

 

Faustus left sometimes during the night, and you sneak down to the kitchen early next morning, hoping for the chance to leave before Hilda wakes. Per your usual luck, all three of them sit there as you enter. You consider for the briefest moment to turn and leave, but such concessions are beneath you. At least now that you’ve already hidden out in your room for better part of a day. They all go quiet and turn to look at you. Their expressions unreadable, except that Hilda’s smile is even more chipper than usual.

 

“Good news sister”

 

“Hm?” You pick up your trusty newspaper and find the writing ever so much more fascinating than the faces in front of you.

 

“Got a message from Father Blackwood this morning.”

 

“Really. Well. Isn’t that interesting.”

 

“Turns out the good Father has seen it fit to rescind my excommunication. I’m back in the church.”

 

“What?” The paper suddenly on the table, you stare at your sister in disbelief.

 

“Yes. He must have had quite the epiphany huh? Wonder what on Satan’s earth could have changed his mind so abruptly?” She grins.

 

Gritting your teeth, you grab her arm so hard you know you’ll leave bruises.

 

“I assume you haven’t suggested to him you might _spill_ anything to the rest of the coven, have you?”

 

“Oh no, dear Zelda. You have to stop assuming everyone acts as you would have. Now if he on his own has concluded both my and the coven’s well-being is best should I rejoin...well.” There’s no word for the absolutely sickening smile on her face.

 

“Maybe your... _influence_ , came in handy auntie Zee. I know you’ve put a lot of effort into worshipping with the High Priest lately” Ambrose barely suppresses a laugh, and if they all didn’t know the others knew before, they sure do now. At least Sabrina seems to find the insinuation as unappetizing as as you do and makes a beeline for the door.

 

“I’d ask you to thank Father Blackwood for me, but something tells me Zelda’s better up for the task!” Hilda yells after her, by now neither her or Ambrose do anything to hide their laughs. The first of many you can only presume.

 

Mentally calculating every single hex you know that will shut them up permanently, you pointedly raise your newspaper.

 

Pestering family indeed.

 


End file.
